


Sympathy for the Devil

by suspiciousteapot



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Discussions about class, Gen, With a tad bit of cute at the end because it's them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 18:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspiciousteapot/pseuds/suspiciousteapot
Summary: Demelza and George exchange words at a ball, and it leaves Demelza thoughtful about the similarities in experience they've faced.





	Sympathy for the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Am I being a tad snarky with the title? Yep. I miss the more nuanced George of S1 and even parts of 2, as opposed to the moustache-twiddling Snidely Whiplash of S3. Not because I like the guy, but I enjoyed the hints of greyness to his character.
> 
> This was more or less prompted by the infamous toad business of 3x06, but looks at George's past a bit more broadly. I've always thought it was interesting (though understandable) that neither Demelza nor George ever acknowledges their similarities, in that both are never quite considered by the gentry to be legitimately part of that class. So I decided to explore it. 
> 
> The setting isn't terribly important, but imagine the first part is at some generic ball within the time of season 3 (say between 3x04 and 3x06, if you wanna get more precise, which I don't because shhh I'm lazy with setting and Poldark time is already nuts so really being ambiguous is just being canon-compliant, right?) and the second part (which will be up shortly) is not too long after the ball. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

"Ventured out of your scullery, I see."

Demelza considered simply not turning to face George Warleggan and his tired jibes. She could simply leave him standing there like the fool he was, talking to the air, yet her frustration and a long-held curiosity turned her to confront him. 

"Why d'you see fit to fling that in my face every time we cross paths, George?" Shock at her bluntness wiped the smug smile off his face.

Encouraged, she persisted. "I've come t'expect it more from you than any other, so tis no longer a surprise to me. Yet I was confused of it when I first learned of you and then met you, and I never did ask."

George breathed a soft laugh of incredulity. "You _seriously_ wonder why I find it so distasteful that you consider yourself equal to your betters?"

"If you think that of me, George, then how d'you not think it of yourself?" She cut off his angry reply before it could leave his lips. "If you do not think me fit to mix with gentle folk because I was not born to it, then how can you ever consider yourself to be of the same class as such old names as we're in the company of?" 

George's mouth worked, but no sound emerged from it, and when he managed to overcome the impertinence of her words enough to meet her gaze, Demelza noted a flicker of doubt. She seized it.

“If you think me so low for my birth - if you truly d’think gentility do come from birth" This casual questioning of the foundations of society shook him, but intent on her train of thought, Demelza did not catch it. "- then how d'you think you can _ever_  be the same sort as a Godolphin, a Chynoweth or a Poldark? Where does your _great gentility_ come from?”

For a long moment, Demelza wondered if she'd managed to find a way seemingly impenetrable arrogance. A hope was barely formed before it was dashed.

"Through education, a suitable profession, and gentle manners." His voice was low and steady, but Demelza noted a flush of red around his collar. "Hardly things I'd ever expect _you_ to understand." He finished curtly, barely suppressing the tremor of anger in his tone. "Good _day._   _Mistress Poldark_."

He all but stormed away from her - gentle manners indeed - and she caught Ross's questioning look. She shook her head to indicate it was not of immediate concern; that they would talk later. 

Years ago - a lifetime, it felt like now - she had almost envied George his confidence. To her, he'd once seemed so assured of a place in society he was not born to, while she could never quite escape the feeling that she would never fit. She had often wished, then, to be as perfect as Elizabeth, just as she knew some part of him wished himself to be Ross. She misdoubted that was a feeling that would ever truly leave her, or him for that matter. Yet in her case, it was now a small part of her. She'd lately come to realize that to be the "perfect" lady, she would lose much of what was good in herself. The cost was simply too great. And she supposed George to had overcome some of his envy of Ross; he had "won" Elizabeth, after all.

In spite of the outcome of their conversation, Demelza found herself strangely satisfied. She had not realized how much she'd wanted to ask that of him, out of consideration of their similarities in background and treatment by many of the gentle folk. Beneath that satisfaction, she found something of a sadness for him; for the coldness he insisted on maintaining, and the joy he sacrificed, simply to gain what she doubted gentle society would ever grant him. She hated him for how he hurt others to benefit himself, yet she also felt a mournfulness for whatever had caused him to be as he was, this wretched man who faced many of the struggles she herself grappled with. She would have felt sympathy for him, but his personality would not allow it. Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I love hearing people's thoughts, so if you had any, drop me a comment below!  
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
